


Nothing

by alchemicink



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Angst, Christmas Tree, Dancing, M/M, YES!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicink/pseuds/alchemicink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But he can’t stop watching Takaki in the mirror, can’t stop the tiny imperceptible shiver he feels when Takaki runs his hand down his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Today I was suddenly seized with wanting to write Hikaru and Takaki together. I don't know why. I don't understand. I think I'm a bit sleep deprived. Please enjoy? You can thank Kay for giving me an idea and Emily for encouraging it. 
> 
> Also, Emily and I decided that the ship name for this pairing is Christmas Tree. Because if you take the kanji in Takaki's name "tall tree" and add it with Hikaru's "shine" you get a shining tall tree aka a Christmas Tree. That really has zero percent to do with anything in this angsty fic, but I wanted to share.

Hikaru likes pushing boundaries. That feeling of breaking through something and exploring a new idea, it’s something that keeps him motivated, helps him get out of bed in the morning when he wants to do anything _but_ go to work. But this new song and performance is a boundary he isn’t exactly thrilled to cross. This new song Yes!—exclamation mark included and necessary they tell him—is more adult than their usual songs. Thinly veiled implications about sex are woven throughout the lyrics and the choreography is even more so. He, Yamada, and Takaki stand in the middle of their practice room in front of the rest of the group and their choreographer.

And frankly, it’s embarrassing. He can see them in the reflection of the mirror, giggling and smirking at the dance moves they have to perfect. The way they have to twist and roll their bodies, touch each other, open up their shirts to reveal the smooth skin underneath. He wonders how the three of them managed to get stuck with this song. 

But the problem for Hikaru is, more so than anything else, is that Takaki is not good at dancing. Okay, that’s too harsh. The problem is that he can’t get the hang of this particular choreography yet, and Hikaru’s spent the entire practice session watching him in the mirror, checking his movements, adjusting to his pace. He and Yamada almost have the dance down pat, but Takaki is the reason why they have to keep doing this. 

The choreographer demands another run, and Hikaru realizes that, worst of all, he isn’t even angry about this. Except that he’s beginning to get angry about _not_ getting angry. This should be frustrating. He should be annoyed that Takaki is making them do this dance over and over again. But he can’t stop watching Takaki in the mirror, can’t stop the tiny imperceptible shiver he feels when Takaki runs his hand down his side. His eyes meet Takaki’s for half a second and it’s almost like a spark of… _something_. He doesn’t know. He can’t explain it other than the sense that Takaki was watching him too.

Dammit, he curses under his breath, this is not what he’s supposed to be feeling.

After that last run-through, the choreographer throws his hands in the air, giving up for the day and telling them all to go home. Conversations break out all over the room as everyone grabs their stuff to leave. But Takaki remains in the middle of the floor, still quietly practicing, still trying to perfect the moves he’s been having trouble with. 

Wordlessly, Hikaru joins him. And so they dance together in the now empty room, leaving a blank space where Yamada is supposed to be. He continues watching. His eyes scan over Takaki’s shoulders, back, hips, legs. It would be the right choreography except that Takaki seems to be hesitating at all the wrong moments, stiff in all the wrong movements. 

“Do you need help?” Hikaru finally asks. 

“No,” Takaki answers just as he reaches the part of the choreography where he has to run his hand down Hikaru’s side. Usually it’s just a light touch, an electrifying skim of fingertips against his shirt. But this time, Takaki presses hard, rakes his fingers down the fabric, so hard he probably feels Hikaru’s ribs underneath. 

Their eyes meet as they abruptly stop dancing. 

“What is this?” Takaki asks. Hikaru watches tiny beads of sweat roll down his face and neck. This unexpected, unexplainable feeling suddenly between them. Takaki senses it too. 

“It’s nothing,” Hikaru says coldly, even though there’s a burning feeling spreading throughout his body, from his fingertips down to his toes. 

Lies. Of course. _Nothing_ is what Hikaru feels when he looks at Yamada during this dance. But when he sees Takaki, it’s like someone has dropped a ton of bricks on him. Knocking him down with… he doesn’t want to admit it. _Desire_ maybe. 

“Right,” Takaki agrees, “Nothing.” But his gaze lingers a bit too long before he turns away, and maybe Hikaru thinks he’s lying too. 

“I’m going home,” Hikaru announces. Because if he stays any longer, he thinks he’ll either drown in the tension or do something he’ll regret. 

Hikaru doesn’t want to get involved with Takaki. It’ll be messy, he’s sure. Toxic. But the more he tells himself that he doesn’t want this, the more he wants to just reach out and act. Despite his intentions of leaving, he hasn’t moved yet. And Takaki is still there too, sweaty and tired and so damn beautiful. 

Maybe Hikaru can live with the regrets and the messiness and the bad decisions. 

He takes a step forward at about the same time Takaki decides to as well. The kiss is rough as they crash together. He feels one of Takaki’s hands on the back of his head, forcing them closer together. It seems like an eternity of desperate kissing before they stop to breathe again. 

“I—” Takaki begins but trails off. “What is this?” he repeats his earlier question. 

“It’s nothing,” Hikaru says, but he knows his voice wavers as he says it. Lies, lies, lies. 

“Right,” Takaki says again. “It’s nothing.”

And then they leave the practice room behind, empty and quiet.


End file.
